


Spine of Pyhrria

by Dw2h



Category: Wings of Fire - Tui T. Sutherland
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, DESPITE WHAT THE FIRST CHAPTER IMPLIES, Found Family, Gen, More characters to be added, Tui has provided the scaffold on which i write, canon characters will be sprinkled in for convenience, i havent written fanfiction in years, i’m not gonna lie this is a major work in progress, this is an OC story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24233335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dw2h/pseuds/Dw2h
Summary: Rejected by his family, and on his own in a wild world, a young Nightwing begins to hear rumors of Phyrria splitting again, and this time threatens to be the last.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. A Less Than Auspicious Beginning (prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> So like my tags say, this is my first extended written fanfiction in YEARS. Like, since 2012. Wild. In any case i hope you enjoy my dragons as much as i do! 
> 
> Fair warning, this story reads better on mobile (since i, y’know, typed it on my phone) but dont let that discourage you if you’re on desktop!
> 
> Another point, I may use horse terms when describing bits of dragons, its just...very easy to frame them that way.

“Again.”

The young dragon flexed his claws against the forest floor, scoring furrows into the soft soil beneath. With an irritated huff, he spread his wings again, flapping up into the dense understory of trees. He’d been at this for hours now, learning to navigate the crowded tree trunks with the inborn grace of their colorful neighbors.

Trying to learn, at least.

Moonholder felt the ungentle scrape of bark against the leading edge of his long and narrow wings and heard his father growl again. Another scrape, another low sound of disappointment. After about the fifth or sixth rough bump-Ancients, his wings were screaming-Moonholder spiraled his way back down to the forest floor, settling himself meekly before his father.

“Sorry dad, I’m just not good at corners,” he muttered weakly, clawing at the patch of dirt in front of him. He chanced a look up, directly into his father’s disappointed glare. “Sorry…”

“‘Sorry’ will not help you against an enemy, Moonholder.” Oof, and there it was: his name, dripping with disappointment and elevated expectations he could never hope to meet. “Your sister is as agile as any of those soft lizards we’re sharing a territory with! You’re a Nightwing! You’re better than them!”

His father’s raised voice could have probably reached the Rainwing village, although Moonholder suspected several of the more curious ones lounged on the sturdy rainforest branches, silently-and luckily invisibly- watching him learn to navigate a forest he wasn’t built to fly in. He cringed away from the verbal assault, ears folded back. This was an unfortunately familiar lecture. All about the superiority of Nightwing blood and other terrible lies his parents told to make themselves feel better.

The greatest lie of all was, of course, that the rainforest was Nightwing territory. Moonholder had heard the story from an older Nightwing in his village, how several years ago, the rest of the tribe lived on a flaming island, and how it had exploded, with the dragons barely escaping with their lives. This told, obviously with more drama and flare to small groups of hatchlings who could bear Deathbringer’s smug attitude for more than a few minutes. But the past was the past, and Nightwings were dragons like any other, strengths and weaknesses included.

“Dad, can I just go home? Clearly I’m never going to fly above the bar you’ve set for me.” The last of this spoken with a quiet resignation so as to avoid his father’s ire.

No such luck, as the elder Nightwing’s foot left a divot in the ground on impact. He stood up to his full, and impressive height, dwarfing Moonholder in the growing evening shadows.

“You will fly above the very low bar I’ve set! How hard is it to avoid hitting trees? Do they jump in front of you as you flap your wings? Or are you distracted by the assassin’s ramblings of the ‘wonders of the other dragon kingdoms’? That fool is barely a Nightwing as it is!” His father barked down at him, teeth bared in the sort of snarl one would normally reserve for threatening interrogations or the like.

Moonholder cowered further, tenting his wings up around his head to dampen the noise. He thought he might have heard the startled flap of Rainwings fleeing the shouting Nightwing between his father’s questions. It was how these ‘training sessions’ usually ended, one furious dragon spouting offensive epithets at his cowering dragonet. A study in futility.

I can’t keep going like this, Moonholder thought, steeling himself for the frankly stupid thing he was about to attempt. He hopped to his feet, his own growl building at the base of his throat as he knocked his father’s forepaw away with his already bruised wing, startling the elder into silence.

“I will not be abused like this anymore!” He screeched, voice still clinging to the high pitch of his hatchling days. “Every day it’s the same! Obviously I will never make you happy in any way, shape, or form! Do you think I enjoy not being able to fly in my own home? Clearly I am a source of shame for you and Nightwings everywhere!”

He was on his toes by the end of his tirade, and had his scales been any other color, his muzzle would be flush with rage. As it was, a few wispy trails of smoke curled between his fangs, choking the clean forest air.

His father wasn't frozen for long, and Moonholder had the barest second to rear back as a spread talon sped to his face, leaving stinging lines on the side of his muzzle. Better than having his head separated from his neck, he supposed.

“You are dead to me, dead to our family, and if I ever see you again, there will be one less Nightwing in the world!” His father’s snarl echoed through the clearing, startling the few remaining birds into flight. Just as he looked about to bite, he whirled away, his stomping steps echoing through the forest.

Moonholder-no, that name was clearly revoked to him now-he stumbled to his feet, eyes gleaming angrily in the last of the evening light. The anger didn’t hold long, washed away by a tired sort of resignation as his head drooped, a bit of blood trailing down the edge of his upper lip and dotting the soil below.

“‘Dead to him’ huh? Not like I was much good alive to him. I may as well have been a ghost.”

He barely made a sound as he melted into the nighttime shadows of the rainforest. He didn't care where he went, as long as it was away.


	2. Scavenging For Class

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be irregular while i try to figure out what's going on at my job. One of my coworkers is extra flakey so I have to keep covering her shifts, and since they're al at midnight i am suffering. That's also the reason i could only do a sketch for this chapter.

The wind whipped and curled around him, this high up, and were he not naturally a creature of the sky, it would threaten to send him tumbling down to the ground below. Large, but not towering clouds scudded the sky below him, and from above, his wandering ground shadow would occasionally be blocked out by thin sheets of vapor travelling in the opposite direction. At his current elevation the sky was remarkably clear, delightfully brisk, and full of dancing winds that enticed him to swoop at twirl around them, his whooping laughter their only company. 

Ghost had been travelling around for the better part of a moon cycle now, headed more or less northeastward, towards the peninsular ‘tail’ of the continent. It was slow going at first, the rainforest truly had an abundance of food that really wasn't available beyond its humid borders, but practice made perfect, and now he was nearly as good at hunting as the Mudwings he now flew over. 

Not that he could hunt like them, of course. Black scales stood out amongst the swamp waters like a beacon that screamed ‘don’t drink here! Danger danger danger!’ He settled for waking up in the hours just before daybreak, springing down on unwary deer from the branches of trees. 

The best part, in his mind, of finally being free of the Rainforest’s clinging wet air and crowded plantlife was the space he had to finally develop his rather lacking flying ability. The open air sang to him in a way his birthplace never had, and he reveled in it whenever he could. Now that his wing had recovered from their treeborne bruises and scrapes, Ghost had the ability to stretch and flip and roll against the clouds, dragging them around into streaks that traced his wandering flight path. 

As he approached the nebulous border of the Mud Kingdom and the Kingdom of the Sea, he felt a sort of nervous anticipation rise in his chest, slowing his wingbeats. The Seawing territory… it was mostly open water, wasn’t it. Harsh, stinging saltwater that would drag at his wings and pull him under if he wasn’t careful enough. Nevermind the vast open area with nary a speck of land to rest his wings when he grew tired. Suddenly the Sea Kingdom looked a lot less inviting to a dragon who had only swam in (relatively) deep rivers. 

Even as he waffled back and forth with himself about whether or not to continue on to the Bay of a Thousand Scales, something ashy and dark and definitely not natural reared up to snare his attention. Scorched areas of land littered the ground below, ugly razed patches with split timbers and cracked stone sprinkled throughout for flavor. But… it wasn’t all lifeless. He could see a few squared, regular patches a short distance away, with little huts scattered between on dirt paths. Even smaller though, were the strange two-legged creatures wandering between the huts.

_ Scavengers,  _ his mind supplied helpfully, lessons from the Rainwing prince echoing between his horns.  _ They aren't dangerous on their own, but my sister’s friend said that a group of three caused a war! I think they’re interesting, even if they tend to yell a lot when you pick them up for a closer look.  _

Despite his warning about large groups of scavengers, Ghost swooped around again for a closer look. A few of the creatures took notice of his growing shadow and began shouting and gesturing towards what appeared to be the center of their little village. A small grove of new-growth trees grew in a circle there, and he watched as a beaked head popped up. 

Not long after, the rest of the dragon followed, shooting skyward on broad wings that propelled the dragon forward at speeds Ghost could only dream about. Scales like milky mango fruit raced towards him, and Ghost paused in the air, having to beat his wings awkwardly parallel to the ground to maintain his position as the Skywing (was it a Skywing?) screamed towards him. 

A mass of scales rushed by him so fast he could hear the rising and falling pitch of his ‘My pets, do not hurt!’ like notes in a song. 

Pets. Fair enough. 

Ghost shouted his agreement back, along with an apology, and climbed steeply into the air again. One deft wingover later and he was shooting westward, unpursued by the strange skywing. 

~~~

Heading West was more difficult than heading east for a myriad of reasons, the greatest of which was that now instead of outpacing storms in their unstoppable path, he had to land and seek shelter because there was no way he was flying into the kinds of thunderheads that the Claws of the Clouds produced. His path took him directly through the Mud Kingdom, rather than skirting the southern edges where Moorhen’s palace loomed over the great lake. It was quieter here, with small villages where he could wait out the storms before continuing on to the mountains. 

Grounded as often as he was, Ghost began to notice strange things underfoot. The occasional earthquakes that would growl their way quietly up the coast were a distinct  _ feeling _ here. The locals were clearly used to it, but Ghost felt his legs turn to jelly every time he was caught on the ground and one occured. And worse? They were  _ frequent _ . He wasn't an expert on the movements of the ground, but these shakes seemed way too common to him. 

The days wore on, though, and eventually Ghost found himself in the shadows of the Claws mountains. Cool air wafted down to the village in the foothills, fogging the paths between huts and buildings until the sun could burn it away. Ghost could pick his way through the clouds with ease, his natural Nightwing darksight and his experience with humid rainforest fog working in tandem to lead him to the village outskirts. 

His journey was taking him ever westward, to the apex of the Claws of the Clouds: Jade Mountain. A sibling group of Mudwings had pointed him towards the peak about a fortnight back, when he had inquired about landmarks to see. They had mentioned a school there, and said if he hurried he might still be able to get in. He hadn’t hurried, but he did fly with renewed speed at the thrill of at least getting to see something new. Before launching himself skyward, he thought he could see the very peak of the mountain between the craggly slopes. 

The initial hour or so was tedious and hard-earned altitude. The cold mountain air didn’t lend itself to easy flying, and Ghost had to flap like a duck to stay airborne, but once the sun breached the horizon and began warming the dark stone below, the resulting updrafts  _ shot _ him skyward with minimal effort. From his new, higher altitude, he could adopt an easy flap, flap, flap, glide pattern that carried him to the now very visible mountain. Even though he still had a solid hour of flying in front of him, he could pick out small groups of dragons in a variety of colors moving from cave to cave on the rock face. 

A little more than an hour later (slowed as he was to watch the other dragons fly around) he lighted down on a smooth ledge in front of the largest cave, about halfway up the mountain. A little gold-and-blue dragon stood at the entrance, her neck craned towards him curiously, though she didn’t make any moves to approach. With a small stat, Ghost realized she wasn’t much older than he was. 

“Hey Tams,” A pair of Icewings swooped into the cave between them, laughing. The little Rainwing nodded in their direction briefly before turning back to him, nostrils working audibly as she stared. Not at him, per say, but definitely in his direction. She was blind. 

“I don’t recognize you. How can I help you with the Academy?” Her voice was firm, and Ghost felt inexplicably like he was being evaluated. “You came from the bay right? A Seawing?”

“Oh- ah… Sorry, my name is M-Ghost, and yes I’m coming from the coast over there. I didn’t quite make it to the bay.” He stumbled over his words when he realized the questions were for him. “I was wondering if there were any open spots left for me, I know it’s a bit late to join…” He trailed off nervously. 

Her expression softened slightly. “No, I’m sorry the last spots filled up a few days ago. I can take you to Principal Tsunami to talk about signing up for next year’s classes though. Follow me.” Not like he was given much of an option, he followed her through the caves, pausing at every intersection either for ‘Tams’ to feel along the walls for words inlaid in the rock or to let other dragons pass (no other Nightwings thankfully, they would have recognized him in a heartbeat and sent him right home). After a few minutes, she paused outside a rather rough-hewn opening and rapped her claws on the threshold. “Principal Tsunami, I have someone here who wants to talk about next year’s classes.”

“Tamarin please, you’re a teacher now, and we’re friends. Throw that title in the trash.” Tsunami’s voice rolled out of the door, followed by the front half of the  _ buffest _ Seawing Ghost had ever seen. He actually took a half step back, attracting her gaze. “Ah, yeah, you look about the right age to start attending. There’s been  _ incidents  _ in the past, I’m sure you’ve heard. We have a minimum age limit now to prevent ‘concerned parents’ from swarming the school everytime we get a storm prediction. Anyways, I’m sure Tamarin told you we’re full this year, so let’s get your name written down for next year.” Ancients she talked so fast, and her forepaw waving seemed almost unconsciously done along with her words. There was barely a warning as she turned back into her office, gesturing with her tail for him to follow. 

Ghost shuffled his feet and glanced nervously at Tamarin, who smiled knowingly in his direction. “Go ahead, I’ve got to get back to the entrance hall. You’ll be fine.” With that, she turned around, only pausing briefly at the corner to feel the inlay before disappearing. 

Left with not much choice, Ghost peeked into the office. Large ocean shells perches here and there on wooden shelves, holding piles of scrolls in place. Draped on the corner of one shelf was a modest string of pearls that shimmered under the light of a simple lamp coming from the desk. Tsunami rummaged up on a different shelf muttering to herself before she pulled up a tightly furled scroll with a quiet “aha!” She unfurled it on her desk and dipped her claw in a small inkwell before looking up expectantly. 

“Hm-! Oh, call me Ghost,” He squeaked, rubbing his arm. “It’s really okay though, if someone else wants the spot. I’m wandering the continent right now and don’t know if i’ll be back here by next year.”

“Our messenger is very good at her job. Perfect track record so far,” Tsunami offered blithely, carefully tracing the ink onto the parchment, “But you can make your final decision when the time comes. Was there anything in particular you wanted to study? We have former students all over the continent who would be able to give you a jump start.”

“I appreciate the offer. There wasn’t anything specifically, no.” He spied her writing ‘general’ next to his name as he thought. “Although I did run into a strange group of scavengers on the way here. I suppose they’re curious enough to want to study.”

“Strange how? Scavengers tend to scream and run when they see a dragon, unless they’re carrying weapons,” Tsunami rested her forelegs on the desk. 

“Well these ones belonged to some weird, pale Skywing. He called them his ‘pets’ but it was clearly a whole settlement of them, over near the bay.” 

“Hmm, I heard that that Scavenger den was burned out several years ago by Princess Blister during the war. It is strange that they would build on the same location, but the Skywing isn’t. He actually lives up near Sanctuary, at a different scavenger den.

“Speaking of Sanctuary, if you want to learn more about Scavengers, that’s the city to do it.”

Ghost shuffled his wings a bit. “Where is it? I was planning on following the mountains for a bit, but I can change directions.”

“A few day’s flight north of here actually. Following the Claws should take you directly to it if you keep them on your left.” Tsunami got to her feet and shook out her wings. “Here, I’ll show you to the correct exit. There’s a big fortified Scavenger Den on the way, but you should have no trouble if you’re only flying past it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed all of the familiar faces. We'll get some more next chapter. Let me know what you think.


	3. Soaring Scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO uhhh, I'm really bad at estimating distances. Ghost is real young tho, and i imagine it would take him a bit to get places, even with him being fairly speedy. Any questions about such things as physics (which btw, i failed in highschool) are answered with made up facts because i said so. 
> 
> Also Yes, i promised more familiar faces and here they are. Idk if i want to add them to the tags yet, because to be fair, they arent major characters and i dont want to clog up anyone's search.

The air in the upper ranges of the Claws of the Clouds was, in a word, cold. In many words, frigid, bitter and blustery. Despite his recent wandering, Ghost hadn’t been much further north than the great lake in the Mud Kingdom, and had yet to experience any sort of real winter weather. The Rainforest only experienced a brief period of extra rainy weather that the Nightwings had only recently started to build against, tired of waking up with water up to their knees during the storm season. 

Along with the cold were the high-altitude, errant winds that couldn’t seem to decide if they were going to lift him up over the frosty peaks or fling him directly into the nearest cliff face. If he flew low enough to avoid them, then his path became confusing and meandered in a way that added days onto his travel time. Both were infuriating, but he was curious enough to visit Sanctuary to risk the high road, canting his wings to take advantage of every updraft. 

Ahead of him was a smallish mountain with a pretty waterfall bouncing down its side. That was as much a landmark as any, and he turned towards it, aiming for the source of the falls near the peak, a spring with water so clear he could see straight to the bottom. What could it hurt to rest a bit near the water? Ghost chose the softest-looking patch of shoreline and settled in for a brief nap. 

What felt like seconds later, he was startled out of it. Instinct trumped any residual drowsiness and before he really understood why, he was flying up, up, as fast as his wings would take him. The cold air beating against his face dragged away the last of his sleepiness, and he looked down at the ground to see what had attacked him. There were no other dragons, and he didn’t spot any scavengers down on the shore, only the gouges in the shoreline where desperate claws had launched him skyward. 

Faintly, over the flap of his wings and the pounding rush of blood in his ears, he could hear a crunching, grinding sound, like boulders against boulders. Now that the initial fear had quelled somewhat, he could see the previously calm springwater was sloshing angrily against the shore. On the other side, a few large rocks bounced down the mountain face. 

_ Another earthquake _ , Ghost thought to himself, taking a deep, calming breath.  _ Ancients, I’ve never moved so fast in my life. That one was really bad though. _

After a brief moment, the shaking stopped, and Ghost settled back on the shore, ignoring the tremble in his limbs as he scraped over the gouges in the shore, filling in the marks as best he could. It wasn't really necessary, but he had to do something to take his mind off the recent experience. He also had a decision to make. Obviously the quakes were much worse here in the mountains, but if he were to head east into Mudwing territory, he would add  _ so much _ time onto his journey, as well as the possibility of completely overshooting Sanctuary and adding even more time onto his flight. But if he stayed in the mountains, where the quakes were the worst, he ran the risk of being crushed under a rockfall when the next quake inevitably hit. 

Well… instinct had launched him into the sky once. He supposed if it was that quick, he could avoid any great harm. 

Now finished filling in the divots on the shore, he headed north. 

~~~

There hadn’t been another earthquake in the next couple days, but that didn’t stop Ghost from only sleeping in the open, where no rocks or trees could fall on him. Overall, the flying was easier too, the mountain range dropped in height as he approached the center of the continent, becoming a glorified patch of steep hills interspersed with one or two peaks that might truly be called mountains. He settled down for the night near the top of a hill covered in handsome white pines. Their shed needles made the ground below springy and comfortable to sleep on for more than a few hours. With only a cursory turn to settle any stray twigs or pinecones, he settled down. 

A few hours of sleep was all he was going to get tonight, it seemed. Ghost’s eyes flickered open against the increasingly brighter glow coming from deeper in the valley below, accompanied by the rich, acrid scent of green wood burning. Isolated to one spot, he figured it probably wasn't a forest fire, and slowly he crept down the hill to see what was up. About halfway down the slope, three dragons stood around a fire. One was gesturing in a wild, twitchy sort of way, and though the bright yellow of the fire diluted the color of their scales, he thought he could catch a hint of golden-orange underneath the light. The other two… well silhouetted against the flames, it was impossible to tell who they were, though Ghost thought he could see a mane of spines on one of them.

_ None of my business anyways,  _ he thought, turning to head back up to his temporary nest. As he went to turn, he stepped through a fallen branch with an echoing snap that caught the attention of the other dragons. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping (though he was never close enough to hear anything) he scrambled back up the hill. Once he was near his nest again, he tucked himself narrowly into one of the pines, hugging the trunk. He wrapped his wings tightly around himself, and curled his feet in, knowing that the blatant splashes of white would be as good as a beacon. 

Not even a few seconds after he had hidden himself, two Icewings came galloping past his tree, scowling. A few seconds more and he heard one of them growl. 

“I lost ‘em! Must have been a Nightwing.” There was an angry stomp. “We’ll never find ‘em in this forest, ‘specially not if they were smart enough to fly away.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t want anyone spreading  _ rumors _ , you know? So we find the Nightwing, and we kill ‘em, got it? And if we don’t find ‘em, we say we did the job anyways.” A far distant noise, likely a bear rummaging through the forest, caught their attention. “That way!”

Ghost held his breath for a very long time, until he was sure the Icewings were far enough away that they wouldn’t hear him take off. He slowly climbed his way to the top of the tree, even though the point bent under his weight, and used the bounce to spring himself into the air, hoping that any of those dragons wouldn’t see the flash of white as he travelled ever northward. He didn't see the pair of black eyes narrow at him from the fire. 

~~~

After a long night of desperate flying, Ghost was ready to collapse into whatever pile of leaves would have him. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, illuminating the surface of a little lake next to a forest. A collection of buildings, thankfully dragon-sized, sat nearby. From deeper in the forest, thin plumes of smoke rose, probably from the scavenger den Tsunami mentioned. 

Speaking of Tsunami, a Seawing reared out of the lake, coming to shore and shaking off water in a cascade that left a significant portion of the sand dark and damp. As Ghost veered closer, he saw a number of old scars, but this dragon didn’t look unfriendly. Just the opposite, actually, as he turned to watch the young Nightwing land and he broke into a smile. 

“Hey kid, welcome to Sanctuary. Excuse me just one minute,” He held up a webbed claw briefly before planting his foot on the ground again and shaking the rest of the lakewater onto the sand. “Sorry about that, kid- whoa jeez, you look like you haven't slept in a week. What happened?”

The genuine concern caught Ghost off guard, and he tried not to choke on his words. “There’s some Icewings south of here, in the foothills. I...I must’ve startled them at their camp, because they chased me down and threatened to kill me. I’ve been flying all night so they couldn’t find me.”

The Seawings face went on a journey as Ghost spoke, from acknowledgement, to concern, to resigned disappointment, and back to concern. “Those guys again. I’ll see about having Queen Ruby send them a message regarding their...actions. You’re definitely not the first dragon they’ve chased out of the foothills, but with luck, you’ll be the last. But they definitely won’t have followed you here,” He heaved a sigh. “And look at you, you’re just a kid. They had no right!”

He took a closer look, “Actually, you look like you’re barely out of your hatchling years. Why’d you come here alone, kid?”

“Principal Tsunami sent me here, as part of what I guess is an early studies program for Jade Mountain Academy, uh, sir!” Ghost stood up a little straighter, though he was still inclined to lean due to his exhaustion. He stifled a yawn. 

“Sir?” The Seawing laughed, a loud, friendly sound, “I’m just Riptide. So, Tsunami sent you? Here to see the scavengers then? It’s the only reason students come up here.”

“Yeah actually, but I’ll need a place…” He trailed off, realizing how rude it sounded to ask a dragon he had just met for somewhere to stay for a few weeks. 

“Just like Tsunami.” Riptide chuckled fondly. “We have student housing available. Let’s get you checked in with Winter first, and then get you a bed. I can see you’re about to keel over.”

With a brotherly sort of cuff, wing to wing, Riptide led him through the buildings, where, like the scavenger den, smoke was beginning to rise from chimneys. They stopped in front of the largest building, big enough to house twenty-some dragons comfortably. Riptide pushed the door open, calling in his boisterous voice for Winter to wake up and greet the newest student. The Icewing’s (presumably Winter) brow wrinkled slightly, but he didn’t look up, finishing whatever he was writing, with a purposeful slowness. When he had finished his sentence, dotting the paper with an intimidating click of his claws, he looked up, expression one of resignation. 

“Riptide, I have been up for hours trying to finish these reports. You know this. You greeted me on your way out to the lake.” Winter didn’t sound angry, just put out. “Where’s the new student?”

Ghost had shrunk back to stand behind the Seawing’s haunches at the sight of Winter, memories of last night still uncomfortably fresh. He knew it wasn't rational, but like Riptide had helpfully pointed out, he was still young. He felt the older dragon’s wing scoop behind him, scooting him forward. 

“Right here!” Riptide offered another friendly wing cuff. “Tsunami sent him up here, he was chased here by those rogues in the foothills, so if we could get him a place to sleep…” He let the sentence trail off expectantly, a cheeky smile lighting up his face. 

“Yes well,” Winter grabbed a roll of parchment from his table,along with an inkwell, “a Nightwing. From the rainforest, I assume? We have several styles of bedding to choose from. Sign here.”

Ghost took the offered items, quickly scribbling out his name and handing them back. “I haven’t been back to the rainforest for a few moons… but I guess I do still prefer a moss patch, if you have anything like that.”

“Naturally,” Winter said, “Riptide can show you to your room er… Ghost? You do look like those rogues put you through a ringer. Get some rest, and we’ll put you on a study plan tomorrow.”

Riptide helpfully scooted him along again, now that the prospect of a real bed was so close, Ghost couldn’t help the waves of exhaustion rolling off of him. Three doors later, he was nudged into a modestly sized room with a large moss pad in the corner. Riptide offered him one more friendly smile before closing the door. With nothing left to take care of, Ghost collapsed on the bed, asleep in seconds. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww Riptide, congratulations on the new little brother. If it wasn't clear, this takes place post-arc 3, which was a dumb move on my part considering it's not even fully written yet.
> 
> I also... don't like writing dialogue? I'm always clumsy with it. sorry if you're more into dialogue-heavy stories.


	4. Unsanctuary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4. This chapter is mostly dedicated to scooting the plot along, so we'll be visiting the Sky Kingdom next

Sanctuary proved to be a haven Ghost could have only imagined, being raised by the isolationist conservative he refused to call father. Dragons of most varieties (the Pyhrrian ones, at least) lived and mingled together like one big family. The adults held themselves only aloof enough to not get caught up in any water fights in the lake, except Riptide, who insisted on being directly in the middle, making the biggest splash and noise. Ghost stuck to the shallows, chasing small fish and digging up freshwater clams with the few hatchlings that lived in town. He might be too old to be called such anymore, but he also couldn’t swim as well as a Seawing or an Icewing, and didn’t want to risk the deeper water. 

The scavengers were very interesting as well! These ones didn’t scream and run at the sight of grown dragons settling in at the edge of their little village, though they had a wary look in their eyes, and sometimes jumped if the dragons in question began conversing, even in whispers. Clearly they were only used to the little orange dragon spending extended amounts of time nearby. 

Several weeks passed, with the most interesting thing to happen being a visit from a roguishly handsome Sandwing who insisted on heckling Winter the entire time he was in town. Then another earthquake hit. 

Every dragon seemed to lift off at once, even ones who lived in Sanctuary all the time, reacting to baser instincts that all winged creatures seemed to have, if the adjoining flock of birds from the trees around the scavenger den was any evidence. Permanent residents soon dropped back to the ground, taking uncertain steps despite the still shaking earth. After what felt like hours, though it couldn’t have been more than a minute, the ground settled, and so did the dragons, sending up clouds of dust. 

“Wow we haven’t had one like that in a bit! Is everyone alright?” Riptide, ever the pillar of support, began checking on dragons nearest to him. Behind him, other adults began doing the same. 

Winter paced the ground stressfully, his scales putting off so much cold that a sheet of fog was following his path. The Sandwing offered a comforting wing cuff, and the fog lightened considerably. 

“We can’t keep doing this.” Winter grumbled. “There has to be a way to predict these sorts of things. dragons are stressed, if another quake like that hits, we might lose a building, or the scavenger village, or-“

“Winter,” The Sandwing cut through Winter’s increasingly loud muttering. “These kinds of things happen. Especially if you live on a mountain range like this. You definitely can’t control it.”

“There’s been more quakes like that in the past moon, than in the entirety of me living here! We used to get maybe one big quake a year, now they’re practically every week!” Winter seemed to realize the anger behind his words and took a deep breath. “Sorry, Qibli, I just- There has to be a way to predict these things, so we can get ourselves to the lake. Or a field. Somewhere that things won’t fall on us.”

Ghost hated to interrupt a conversation, but an idea had blinked into his head. Probably an obvious one, but an idea nonetheless. Still a little uncertain on the ground, he stepped towards the two dragons, catching Qibli’s attention. 

“What about the Skywings?” Under the gazes of the adults, one stressed and one carefully schooled amusement, Ghost felt uncertain. His idea seemed naive at best now. “Queen Ruby’s palace is in the Claws too. Maybe they have a way to… predict earthquakes…” He trailed off nervously, though a growing spark of genuine amusement was growing in Qibli’s expression. 

“Yeah Winter, listen to this smart little Nightwing. Even if they don’t have a way to predict them, Ruby’s definitely got resources to help with the aftermath. The worst she can say is ‘no’.” He gestured to Ghost curiously. “Who are you anyways? I’ve never seen you in the rainforest with the other Nightwings.” A flicker of eyes down to his legs, and a raised eyeridge asked several other uncomfortable questions. 

Winter came to his rescue. “That’s Ghost, he’s here from the academy to study the scavengers. There’s bigger things to worry about.” He turned to the north, where Ruby’s palace perched among the mountain peaks. “We need to go to the palace, but… there’s no way they avoided that quake. Let’s give it a day so we can clean up around here.” 

“Yeah… sure, Winter. Where do you want me?”

~~~

The day was spent straightening the log supports of homes that had begun tipping under the relentless shaking, and cleaning the dust that had risen when so many dragons had taken to the skies. All day Ghost thought to himself as he fanned away dirt from rooftops. 

_I also want to go to see Queen Ruby._

Sanctuary was a blessing, but he was a wanderer at heart, and this was the longest he had spent in one spot since leaving home. The residual dust in the air had little to do with the itch under his scales to _fly and explore and see the world._ The dust could be washed off, but the itch remained. 

He debated the whole rest of the day, and with Winter and Qibli checking on the scavengers, it was easy to avoid them and be alone with his thoughts. The benefits of staying were… bland, at best. Sure he had somewhere to sleep at night, and scavengers to study, but it was easy to scrape up a decent camp, and scavengers were creatures of routine. After a few weeks of staring, he could probably point out individuals and say what they did for their village. Overall though, he was getting bored. Qibli was the most exciting thing to happen the entire time Ghost had stayed here, and it was clear the Sandwing was only a visitor. 

By the time the two adults returned to Sanctuary, Ghost had made up his mind. He trotted over to them hopefully. 

“I would like to come with you to see Queen Ruby,” He spoke politely, but firmly, “I think I can help you.”

Winter looked taken aback at the audacity coming from this young drake who usually was so quiet and self-effacing. He turned to Qibli, who was audibly holding in his laughter at his expression. 

“It was his idea, Winter. It’s only fair.” Qibli snickered, cuffing at his friend’s wing. 

Winter swallowed his shock admirably, “The Skywing palace isn’t Sanctuary, Ghost. Queen Ruby is just that, a _queen._ I know you aren't a wild kind of dragon, but you’ll still have to be on your best behavior.” 

“I’ll be the best behaved dragon you’ve ever seen in your life, Winter.”

“Oh, not even close,” Qibli butted in with a laugh, “Winter here was once an Icewing prince, and if there’s ever a group of dragons with sticks up their-“ Winter pushed him over, and the sentence dissolved into laughter. 

“Ignore him. When we get there, follow my lead.” Winter spared a withering glance at Qibli, who was picking himself off the ground. “Are you quite finished? We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Aw c’mon Winter, you know you hate your cousins’ stiff attitudes.”

“Shut _up._ ”

“Nah.”

Ghost nodded and left them to it, heading back to the dorms to collect himself for the next day’s journey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends part 1 of Spine of Pyrrhia. Hope you're enjoying so far.


	5. Surprise!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here begins arc 2 of Spine of Pyrrhia.

Queen Ruby’s palace wasn’t in a  _ panic _ per say, it was really more like badly organized but well-intentioned concern. Not to criticize Ruby for how she ran her kingdom. It’s just sometimes hard to know where to begin in the wake of an earthquake that had obviously hit harder here in the mountains. Apparently one of the north towers was pretty badly damaged. As one of the guards led them inside, they could see the further extent of the damage. Bits of rubble were being swept up and away, or carried, when they were too big to sweep, and small cracks rippled their way through the many inlay lines on the walls and floor. They were ushered past the throne room, where a crack like a bolt of lightning ran through the far wall, bits of sky peeking through. Finally they arrived in a large room with maps covering the walls. Some colored pins littered the largest of the maps, which was being scrutinized by none other than Ruby herself. 

“Queen Ruby, emissaries from Sanctuary and the Kingdom of Sands are here to speak with you,” the guard said, knocking the butt of his spear on the ground. “It’s about the um… earthqu-“

“I know what it’s about, Cinnamon. Send them in.” Ruby turned away from her map with an irritated sigh. “Sorry for not seeing you in the main hall. You may have noticed it’s under repair right now. Was there any aid we can offer?”

Winter bowed low before Ruby. Behind him, Ghost mimicked his action, though not as smoothly. Qibli only went about halfway his own bow before rising, but that seemed to be expected. When all three dragons were back up, Winter spoke. 

“It’s quite alright my queen. Sanctuary didn't take any severe damage, though there is a small request we have: Does the Sky Kingdom have any way to predict when these quakes are going to happen? I am worried that we’ll lose a building in the next one.”

Ruby contemplated the request for a moment. “We used to, but it’s been malfunctioning of late.”

“Malfunctioning how?” Qibli asked curiously. 

“We believe that the quakes are either too severe or too fast for it to make its predictions.”

“Is it… is this an animus-touched object?” Winter spoke with a healthy caution, tilting his head. 

“Yes, incredibly old too. Our historians think it may have been made just after the Scorching.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “For 5000 years it functions perfectly, but in the middle of the worst rash of earthquakes we’ve ever experienced, it up and quits on us.”

“May we take a look at it, Ruby? Winter and I are… we have some experience with animus-touched objects.” Qibli shot what looked like an apologetic look at Winter as he asked. Must’ve not been a great experience for either of them. 

“Of course, just be careful not to jostle it, I only just got the bells replaced, and it’s incredibly sensitive.” She gestured to a medium-sized pot behind her, it would have been unobtrusive if not for it’s fascinating decor. Made of clay, it was ringed with 16 carved dragon heads, maybe Skywings of the distant past. In each dragon’s mouth was a little round object, probably the bells Ruby had mentioned. Ringing the base of the jar was 16 pairs of talons, each cupped under a head, presumably to… catch the bells that fell whenever the jar was jostled. The animus magic likely prevented any bells from being lost, alongside whatever predictions it provided. Overall it was a fairly attractive piece of art, but Ghost couldn't figure out why there were  _ so many _ bells. 

Qibli didn’t seem to have the same problem. “Oh wow, any scrolls we have barely touch on this object. The heads must be the compass part. Back in the day, only Skywings flew by the sixteen winds. Everyone else used the simpler eight-point compass.” At least he was having a good time. Ghost had the sneaking suspicion that the adults all knew this information, and Qibli was just reciting fun facts to try and educate him. (It wasn’t his fault he was so small!) At least he taught with a smile on his face, it was much better than the disappointed glare he was used to. 

“We still use the sixteen-point compass, Qibli,” Ruby said, a hint of amused exasperation in her tone. “Everyone else caught up.”

Before the conversation could dissolve into banter, Winter spoke up, “I don’t see any cracks or other damage. I know there was a problem with animus  _ magic _ a while ago, but passive items like this still worked fine. How does it malfunction?”

“It no longer drops the bells on its own. The quakes don’t activate it.” A note of stress entered her voice, “We have no warning anymore, and if we get another strong quake like that, we’ll likely lose the entire north wall!”

“Hmm, well we have a few animus experts… but i feel like there’s something else going on. Ghost, what do you think?”

Oh geez, they were really putting him on the spot. Ghost masked his surprise with an exaggerated thinking gesture, sitting back on his haunches. Better make this quick. 

“The earthquakes… are also animus caused?” He offered weakly. 

Ruby’s eye ridges raised skeptically, but Qibli looked thoughtful. 

“That might not be incorrect. If an animus were to send a quake as an attack, they could also tell it to not activate any warnings so as to cause the most damage. The palace is sturdy, but sturdy isn’t always the best in a quake.”

“So some animus is attacking my kingdom? I thought that spell scroll was to prevent this sort of thing from happening.”

“There are other animus-touched objects, Ruby,” Winter soothed, “We’ll start looking into the possible causes.”

“I don’t think they’re attacking just the Sky Kingdom though,” Ghost said, trying not to flinch under the black, blue and gold stares of the older dragons. “I could feel these earthquakes over on the Bay of a Thousand Scales. They didn’t get  _ bad _ until I started travelling in the Claws. Whatever is causing this is localized in the mountains, probably because it’s easy to hide.”

“Was that a pr-“ Ruby started

“No, I’m not a prophet, but I have been travelling a bit these last few months, and that’s what I’ve noticed. Uh, my queen.” He tacked the last on there, belatedly recognizing his tone was rather flippant. He heard a quiet ‘nice catch’ from Qibli. 

“If that’s the case, I’ll have my guards start sweeping the mountains for suspicious dragons. I know those rogue Icewings are still causing problems, but I feel like they’re more along the lines of roadside bandits, than genuinely malicious.”

“If you would like, Ruby, Winter and I can see if Queen Thorn has anything in her vaults for this sort of problem? Since the scavengers returned our treasure, we have access to a number of animus-touched objects.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea!” Ruby clapped her talons together. “Will your… son? be accompanying you?”

Ghost and Winter stiffened, and Qibli let out a laugh so loud it could probably be heard on the coasts of Pantala. 

“He’s not my son.”

“I’m not his son.”

Ruby looked sheepish, her scales flushed. “My deepest apologies! I shouldn’t have assumed.” She ran a talon against her beak before standing. “I do remember you were crushing on that sweet little Nightwing years ago, I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

Qibli’s laughter followed them down the hall. 

~~~

The flight began well enough. Qibli took the point first, so Winter and Ghost could trail along in his wake like a skein of geese might fly. He ribbed Winter for nearly the entire flight, and Ghost came to understand that Winter’s crush all those years ago was now  _ Qibli’s _ partner, and wasn’t that something. It was good they could still be friends, the three of them. 

Well, not friends.  _ Family. _

Ghost slept some distance away, and tried not to be too jealous. 

~~~

Winter took the point on the second day, the natural cold radiated off of his wings like a cape, adding to the morning chill of the already cool mountain air. Qibli was so warm by comparison that thin banners of fog followed his flight, leaving a line in the sky that followed their path over the Foothills. Despite natural instinct, Ghost avoided tacking closer to the natural heat. His wingspan simply wouldn’t allow it. 

It was perhaps this combination of things-Winter’s focus on the horizon, Qibli’s squinting against the very cold wind blowing directly into his eyes, and Ghost’s constant flight adjustments- that allowed them to be ambushed. 

A lilac blur  _ slammed _ into Winter from below, and the sudden loss of moving air made Ghost and Qibli stall, tipping forward into their own attacks. Above them, Winter fell away from his ambusher, stunned. 

The mystery dragon (No, an Icewing) went into a sudden wingover, and only missed hitting Winter again by virtue of the smaller Icewing extending one wing and spiraling away like a loose maple seed. There was a curse, probably something foul thankfully lost to the whipping wind as the attacker gave chase. They were soon out of sight. 

Qibli’s attacker went right for his tail, the beginnings of frostbreath swirling around the corners of his mouth. The venomous tip of his tail swung sideways, the bulbous reservoir part making contact with the Icewing’s cheek. This unfortunately dragged it through the wispy trail of frost, and Qibli flinched back with a hiss. The Icewing (this one sinuous, with royal blue stripes along his contours) took the opportunity to rake his claws down Qibli’s flank, leaving bloody gashes against his sandy hide. The Sandwing pulled further, flapping mightily to escape the onslaught. Without hesitation, the Icewing followed, screeching about how they’d be the first witnesses to the great change to Pyrrhia, whatever that was supposed to mean. It probably had to do with why they were  _ attacking _ innocent travellers who were just  _ minding their business _ . Rude. 

Ghost’s Icewing attacked like Winter’s, but from above. He could feel every ridge of his serrated claws in the meat of his shoulder. After a brief drop in altitude, Ghost had the presence of mind to attempt his own wingover, and briefly succeeded in removing the Icewing. (And just how many were there now? Snowfall must be missing half of her army.) The Icewing growled, low and sinister, and Ghost realized that this was one half of the pair that attacked him in the woods not so long ago. These dragons  _ would not _ hesitate to kill them, so Ghost did the best thing he could think of, escape. It was an idea just tangible enough to work with, and his wings knifed through the air as fast as he could flap with his clawed shoulder. He felt the brutal rush of claws hit against the base of his tail, but adrenaline must’ve been working for him today, because he put on an extra burst of speed to escape. Then, against every bit of teaching to be beat into him, he let fire build in his throat, hot and choking, and accompanied by copious amounts of greenish smoke that made his eyes burn and filled the air with a charred, sulfuric smell. 

The flames licked against his forequarters, and he could feel the burns, but they were nothing compared to what the Icewing was experiencing, if the shrieking noise behind him was anything to go by. The smoke also provided an excellent cover for him, blending with his own greenish undertones and rendering him all but invisible in the growing cloud. 

(He wondered what this looked like from the ground, a single storm cloud firing off loud curses and shrill screams instead of thunder and lightning.)

Finally satisfied with the amount of smoke in the air, Ghost angled himself towards what he believed was south and shot out of the cloud, dragging a trail of soot along with him. 

He was so tired. He was losing blood. He was approaching the ground at dan _ gerous speeds oh Ancients no, pull up pull up-! _

He barely managed to yank his wings back to avoid smashing them into useless splintered fragments against the not-too-forgiving Foothills dirt. The rest of him was not so lucky, carving a gouge in the grass and soil. In the distance, he thought he could hear someone exclaim, though if it was surprise or anger, he couldn't tell. Either way, he wanted to move, had to move. Had to hide from the attacking dragons. 

He was so tired. 

Even as he could feel the last dredges of consciousness leaving him, he could hear distant, loping footsteps approaching. Against the too-bright backdrop of the sky, the stranger’s shadow was dark. The shadow asked him something, but he just couldn’t find it in him to respond. Something grabbed him around the middle, astonishingly cautious of his injuries, and set him down on something warm. In an instant, he was brought back to his hatchling nest, where he and his sister would snuggle next to each other next to their mother’s bulk, warm and  _ safe and home _ …

The movement below him was swift but regular, a pace that quickly rocked him into blissful oblivion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof, hope he's not being kidnapped or anything. (he's fine i have so many more chapters planned)


	6. Family Matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few heavy subjects in this chapter, so be aware
> 
> Also: Silkwings, in my story? It's more likely than you think

_ Is he going to be okay, when he wakes up? _

_ He should be, he’ll be landbound for a bit though, while his shoulder heals up. Cloak and I will take care of it, you two get on to wherever you were going.  _

Pain. 

_ Oh, Ceri dear, I think he’s waking up! _

_ Really, after a fall like that, I’d be surprised. Don’t let him do anything too crazy.  _

Darkness. 

_ I like his eyes, they’ve got such a nice glow.  _

_ You would, you big dumb moth.  _

Warmth and comfort. His eyes? They did glow a bit, when it was really dark. Who was talking though? Probably no one dangerous, considering…

~~~

_ Chok, chok, kreeeakkkrmmkksshhh! _

The sound was familiar, someone chopping a nearby tree. Probably one of the Nightwings from the main village. They’d wander out a bit to find one of the really big ones sometimes. To fell it in two strikes though, that took power. 

The Nightwing village… that wasn’t right. He had been flying through the Claws. He’d been… attacked. They’d been attacked! The rogue Icewings! Where were Qibli and Winter? Where was he, for that matter?

Ghost arched off of the ground, disturbing the soft grass mat beneath him and startling the large dragon lounging across the room away from their book. 

“Goodness! Don’t strain yourself kiddo, whoever attacked you did a real number. We don’t want those cuts opening back up.”

He opened his eyes to soft morning light, and the concerned face of the  _ absolute largest _ dragon he had ever seen. He jerked back, an angry, sooty cloud of smoke instinctively rising from his throat. He choked it back, coughing. 

“Wh-where am I?” He managed, around the smoke. “Who are you?”

“Relax kiddo, you’re safe. This is our house. My name is Mourning Cloak, but just Cloak is fine. Lot easier to say.”

The large dragon’s eyes were faceted, but Ghost had the distinct feeling that eye contact was being made. Faceted eyes weren't even the strangest feature of this dragon, in the end. Jewel-tone scales, from mahogany to cream, strange mouthparts that might have been tusks of a sort, only three toes on each foot,  _ four wings what was going on with this dragon? _

Ghost’s breath quickened, and his wings twitched back, pulling at what were, no doubt, very deep wounds in his shoulders. Cloak leaned back, his talons held up in an appeasing gesture. (From here, Ghost could see that his size was all gangly limbs and swan-like neck, with very little actual substance behind him.)

“I’ll go get my partner, they’ll want to know you’re up,” Cloak murmured, more to himself, as he left the room. After a few moments, Ghost could hear him calling presumably outside the hut, “Ceriman, hon, the little drake has woken up.” His voice carried, but was very gentle, and Ghost began to wonder why he was so frightened. Obviously these dragons meant him no harm, indeed they were actively helping him recover when they had no real reason to do so. He relaxed back into the grass mat, debating what he should do next. The decision was made for him when a much more reasonably sized dragon stepped into the room. 

“Good to see you’re up and about, kid. You had worried when Mourner here brought you in, bleedin’ like a caught rabbit.” This dragon spoke kindly, but firmly, with all of the gentleness of a freshly chopped piece of timber. They were built compact, but fairly thick, all sturdy limbs and no-nonsense posture. Thick scales scattered over their body, mostly green like lush and waxy rainforest leaves, with deep brown like gnarled bark at the shoulders, forelegs and flanks. A metal blade was strapped to their tail, obviously this dragon was the one chopping wood earlier, and Ghost no longer wondered how a tree could be felled so swiftly. 

“You’re a little young to be out and about on your own though. Where’re you from, kid?”

“Oh, uhhh…” Ghost hesitated, “Sanctuary, near the Sky Palace.” Hopefully these two would know where that was. “I was travelling with Winter and Qibli to the Sand Kingdom. Did you see them?”

“I think so… An Icewing and a Sandwing? They did come by a few days ago, asking about a missing student. I told them we found you over in the foothills, and they seemed relieved.” The Leafwing pondered for a bit, “I did send them on their way though.”

“I remember those two, they squabbled like an old married couple the whole time.” Cloak chuckled. “Seemed nice enough though. A bit beat up.”

“We were attacked.” Ghost spat, catching the adults’ attention. “There’s some rogue Icewings living in the mountains. They ambushed us over the Foothills.”

Ceriman stiffened. “Those no-good, Otherminded, rotten excuses-“ They stopped when Cloak cleared his throat. (Ghost suspected he would have learned a couple of creative new words otherwise.) “Those troublemakers keep attacking my orchard! Now they’re attacking innocent travelers! I’ll rip their wings off like they’re so clearly trying to do to others!”

Ghost didn’t have any doubts about their ability to do so, either. The tailblade was swinging dangerously through the air, punctuating every threat and insult. Clearly this dragon had a passion for nature. 

“Ceri, please stop swinging that thing around. He already nearly lost his wings, we don’t need to add his head to the tally.”

“It just gets me so- so-! Ugh!” A stomp on the dirt floor of the hut punctuated the sentence, but Ceriman did not continue their tirade, instead their shoulders relaxed and a contemplative look entered their eyes. “But you must be hungry, you’ve been out for a few days now, and recovering takes energy.”

As if in response, his stomach growled, embarrassingly loud. 

“I knew it. Cloak can whip you up something quick, I’ve got to finish clearing out the rest of that grove so we can plant before the cold hits. Love you hon,” Ceriman bumped their snout against Cloak’s as they turned to leave. “I’ll be back in by sundown!”

Cloak watched them go, smiling gently. “I hope you like apples, they’re our specialty around here.” He backed his head out of the doorway and into the next room, which appeared to be a kitchen of sorts. On a small table was a basket of apples, two of which Cloak removed and began deftly slicing into little wedges. “I won’t lie, I don’t have much experience with young’ns, but when I was a little drake, apple wedges were a surefire way to cheer me up.” 

Though his back was turned to Ghost, he still had an uncanny feeling of being watched. He carefully limped into the kitchen, staring at the large dragon. 

“Ah, I suppose you don’t get a lot of Silkwings over near the Sky Kingdom, do you? It’s too chilly over there for most of us Pantalans, so we tend to stay on the western side of the continent.”

Ghost flinched guiltily, obviously Cloak could tell he was staring. “Y-yeah. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Silkwing before.”

“We got some mixed reviews when we first showed up here, but even the dragons in the next city don’t bother us none anymore when we set up shop.” He dropped the apple slices into a shallow wooden dish and set it on the table before grabbing two more apples to slice. “Here ya go, kiddo, eat up.”

“Thank you, mister Cloak.” Ghost began munching on his apples, finishing two or three slices before speaking up again. “Why settle in Pyrrhia if it's too cold?”

Cloak looked up from his own apples, a slightly incredulous expression on his face. “Didn’t you learn that in yer fancy school? Years ago we were forced out of our home by this evil plant that took over your head. I know there’s more to the story, but when you’re being chased away by smoke and fire and dragons who aren't themselves, you tend to not focus on the little things. In any case, Ceri and I were in the initial wave of evacs.” He tapped his chin with a pondering look on his face (He hadn’t blinked once, Ghost was starting to suspect that that was a Silkwing thing.) “‘Course no-one can tell them to do anything, and I was a curious little drake then so I just followed along. Next thing Iknow, I’m tending beehives because ‘We’re growing fruit trees’ and here we are now.”

“Ceriman just grew some fruit trees? Just like that?”

“That’s just how Leafwings are sometimes.”

~~~

After the apples, Ghost  _ was  _ feeling better. His shoulders still ached, and when he craned his head back to look at the damage, he saw that his wounds had been packed with some kind of strange stringy material that clung to his scales like spiders’ webs. The Icewing attacking him had known exactly what to do, as the wounds circled around his wing joints, as one might prepare a jungle fowl for cooking over a fire. It wasn't pretty, but everything was still attached, and he had been assured that in a few days, he’d be able to fly again. 

He’d be more okay with that if it didn’t hurt to walk so much. According to Cloak, he’d left quite the rut in the ground when he landed, though they didn’t find anything broken. The larger dragon was settled in what appeared to be a bedroom of sorts, weaving pale threads into a thick-walled pouch. 

“When yer wings are healed up, I’ll have you come with me to Possibility. Ceri told your friends to meet us there after their business with Queen Thorn, so they could take you back to Sanctuary.” 

“I uhh… don’t know about going back. I kinda like seeing new sights, and I definitely don’t want another run-in with those rogues.” Ghost rocked back and forth on his feet, seeing where his legs hurt the most. It appeared to be mostly localized in the upper forelegs, he’d probably just landed at a strange angle. 

“Oh? Well I’m definitely not your father,” he frowned a bit when Ghost winced, “so I won’t be making you do anything. You seem a bit young to be out and about on yer own though.”

“I’m…” Ancients, he couldn’t lie to this kind dragon. “I’m a runaway.”

“Was it yer father that gave you that set of lines on your snout?” Cloak’s frown was firmly set, and his strange antennae bristled. Ghost didn’t answer, but his expression must’ve spoken volumes. “Why, I have half a mind to go and give him a matching set! What kind of good-for-nothing dragon hits a kid?”

Ghost eyed the Silkwing’s claws. They were large, but blunt, and flexed angrily around the mostly finished bag. “It’s fine, really. I’ve made my peace with it.” A lie, he’d chosen a new name and hadn’t looked back, but it still hurt. 

“Hmm…” 

It was the only response he got. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have a meme to lighten the mood

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the opening of this story! I’m attempting to structure it like the books are, with three multi-chapter parts. Hopefully it works out that way, as it’s how i’ve structured the outline. 
> 
> Feel free to leave any comment or critique! I love hearing peoples’ thoughts on my work!


End file.
